


It's Been Awhile

by TheUniverseIsAgainstMe



Category: Time Bombs (Podcast), Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alcohol, Even after all this time Jacobi is still a sarcastic jerk, Gay Daniel Jacobi, Gen, Jacobi can't come out without making a gay joke, Post Wolf 359, Radio bob gets his awful coffee order and nearly gives Midland an aneurysm, isabel lovelace kicks someone's ass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2020-06-09 14:06:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19477453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUniverseIsAgainstMe/pseuds/TheUniverseIsAgainstMe
Summary: 4 years after the U.S.S Hephaestus mission, Daniel Jacobi is living a new life as Mark Midland in New York City's finest bomb refusal squad. Jacobi thought he had finally put his past behind him until he spots a news reporter that looks a lot like Captain Isabel Lovelace, who won't give Jacobi a break.





	1. A Closet Full of Grudges

Long story short: Jacobi fucked up. And he'd fucked up big time.

It wasn't just this morning when he spilled coffee all over his new pair of shoes Teller bought for him. It wasn't Tuesday when he yelled at a random witness and almost got written up. It wasn't even two weeks, 5 days, 4 hours, 23 minutes, and 46 seconds ago when he said goodbye to the strange yet very familiar Reporter, Tatiana sobrero, on New Year's Eve. 

No, Daniel Jacobi fucked up 4 years ago decidedly turned his back and ran away from the only people who could possibly understand what he was going through after having the everlasting shit kicked out of you. He thought he was doing the right thing, that he was justified in his actions. He'd never asked to be sent up there with the smartest woman he'd ever be lucky to have known and the biggest asshole-besides himself that is- and return to this stupid planet with nothing but his hollowed out heart and several handfuls of regrets. He'd never asked to be left behind.

He thought: why not make this horrible situation he was thrust into count? Make something useful of himself for once in his goddamn life. A new life that his best friend would be proud of. So he asked for a new identity, and a fresh start. He was no longer "Daniel Jacobi": disgraced son of an airforce pilot, bomb-builder and life-ruiner extraordinaire who fucked up lives in the worst way possible by working for the worst corporation money could build. Instead he was "Mark Midland", recently indicted member of New York City's bomb defusal unit 214 and supposed friend to two of the strangest men alive, who might have psychological issues worse than him. 

He tried to remind himself on the days when the bomb defusals were just a little _too_ easy and a little _too_ boring, or on days when he could barely drag his feet into work that there was no turning back for him, he chose to leave all his memories and fuck all past behind him for good, and he'd have to live with that.

That's what he kept reminding himself of on New Year's Eve when Teller unexpectedly brought along a new friend to document a whirlwind of a night. A new friend who resembled an old colleague of his: Captain Isabel Lovelace.

_Teller left the van for what was probably his 3rd coffee run of the day, dragging along Radio Bob, who was earning quite the reputation among the coffee shop workers, for a possible discount- which left Midland alone with the reporter who was staring wide-eyed at him._

_"So... it's been awhile hasn't it?", She asked._

_"I don't know what you're talking about Ms.Sobrero, I just met you about 20 minutes ago", Midland tried turning back to the front of the passenger seat, He was not giving her the satisfaction of him talking to her._

_"Oh don't try to bullshit me. I invented Bullshitting Jacobi_ , remember?"

_" You must have me mistaken for someone else. My name," Midland gritted through his teeth, "is Mark Midland."_

_"Why are you acting like a bigger jackass than usual? I haven't heard from you in 3 years- the least you can do is give me a reason," She insisted._

_"If you want to talk to me, that's fine. Let's talk about my job as a bomb defuser or my relationship with my teammates--you know, the things you're_ supposed _to report on? Otherwise, I recommend that you keep your mouth shut."_

This shouldn't be what he was focusing on right now, he had a job-- a good job, one that he could use his calloused and bruised hands to save lives rather than take them away. And he couldn't do that if he was always drifting back into the past. Midland just had to--

"Get a move on Midland. Boss is getting impatient on this end.", The radio attached onto his uniform beeped, indicating that his partner outside was trying to reach him

"Yeah, yeah. Just hold tell the Boss to hold his horses for once, I got this all under control.", He assured. Midland almost never went out into the field by himself-- not just because he was 3 weeks off probation or because Teller was a hog when it came to claiming bomb defusals-- but because Midland was in fact a highly trained ballistics specialist and he knew the inside components to a bomb better than he knew the back of his palm. He knew the exact time it took for a bomb to explode,the exact radius down to the very centimeter of the explosion, and he could deactivate it within a minute (and that was just with a paperclip, wrench, and a turkey-bologna sandwich with extra mayo and chips on the side). He was an expert with more than a dozen lifetime's worth of experience, but to Radio Bob and Simon Teller he was just Mark Midland, graduate of 3 years whose current job was only his second time working professionally with bombs. They didn't, and more importantly _couldn't_ know what he was truly capable of. So he took his time with a bomb that could've been dismantled within 2 minutes but instead took 10 (still well below the recommended time frame).

"Midland I swear if you don’t hurry up soon I’m gonna beat your ass so hard, I bet $15 dollars on you on you disarming this thing within 11 minutes so don't make me lose my money.", Teller commented on the radio.

"Excuse me? Boss, I thought after New Year's incident you promised to take our job more seriously, remember?"

"Oh sure, when I'm the one on the job."

"That's not-you know what I meant Boss.", Midland said cutting the last of the bomb's wires. "And done. Are ya happy now?"

"Very. Now hurry back to the van so Bob here can take us out to get coffee and donuts."

When Midland slid open the van's side door, he found both his friends glaring at him with the widest smiles ever. 

"Why are you looking at me like that? Don't tell me you two decided that I'm going to buy breakfast." Midland said climbing into the back seat.

Teller held up a phone and started waving it around in front of his face, "Someone's popular. Your phone was blowing up-no pun intended- the whole time you were out there. Normally, I would have to write you up for disruptive behavior but seeing as how it's that sly and foxy reporter girl texting you, I can't stay mad."

Midland immediately snatched his phone from his boss' hands, and sure enough he had at least 10 messages and 3 missed phone calls from Tatiana Sobrero. "I don't understand, how does she have my number?"

The van stayed quiet.

"Guys……?"

"Okay fine, I may have given it to her.", Radio Bob confessed. "But in my defense, she seemed _really_ into you Midland, and I thought you guys would make a cute couple."

"Ugggh. You make me want to barf", Midland rolled his eyes. It figured that Sobrero would reach out to the weakest link of the bunch. He should've known better than to just let her walk away, of course she would have to stalk him. God forbid that Midland actually had some peace for once in his life.

"What's wrong with Sobrero? I mean she has a nicer face than either of my ex-wives.", Teller said

"Yeah, I would hit that.", Radio Bob joined in.

"Okay first of all, it's not very polite of either of you to talk about her that way especially when she's not here to defend himself, and there's other components to a woman's attractability besides how big her butt is."

"Ooh, what are you a butt man?", Teller joked, completely ignoring his other point.

"Actually I'm more of a dick man myself.", Midland said.

"Oh. Okay then nevermind.", Teller said shocked, sliding back into the front seat. "For the record, I think gay man are very cool."

"Just shut your trap and start the car, Boss",Radio Bob said, and hit Teller on the head, making Midland chuckle. 

"You guys are way too easy to embarrass.", Midland said. He absolutely loved to get a rise out of his Boss and make a fool of him, which wasn't very hard to do considering Teller acted like one 98% of the time. 

He looked back at his phone, _what could Lovelace possibly want to talk to him about that she had to use half of his data plan?_ He scrolled through the thousands of text messages she sent, hoping they would provide some information but they were all either vague statements edging him to call back or very serious threats regarding the fate of Midland's dick if he didn't pick up the phone. And knowing Lovelace, she was definitely the type of person who break into your apartment at one in the morning and eat all your boxes of cinnamon toast crunch cereal before sneaking into your room and finally mutilating you with a butter knife she found in your kitchen drawer. But Midland was also a trained and capable ex-Si-5 agent who'd escaped prisons worse than Alcatraz or even game nights with Kepler, and survived torture sessions that lasted for weeks at a time. If possible, Midland was absolutely confident that he could handle Isabel. Probably. Maybe. He wasn't sure?

He thought he should probably send sobrero a message warning her to stop calling or something with an equally disturbing and assertive tone. But Midland didn't like to dwell on things for too long, plus he could send the text at anytime. She wasn't to the point of stalking where she actually followed his location.

"You coming Midland? Or are you too busy playing on your little phone there?", Teller mocked.

"I'll be there in a sec", Midland responded.

The line in the coffee shop was exceptionally long, considering it was dive-end cafe near the back corner of a run-down strip mall Teller probably found late at night while he wandering home drunk. But it was 9:15 AM on a moderately busy Thursday morning in New York City, aka: the busiest and shittiest place in America, especially when you're Mark Midland and being chased by a crazy old pal of yours whom you want absolutely nothing to do with. But when you work one of the most dangerous jobs in NYC, you serve your caffeine addiction wherever you can.

"Yeah I'll take a Quad long shot, grande, in a venti cup, half-caff, no sleeve, salted caramel mocha latte with five pumps of toffee nut, half whole milk, half soy, extra hot, extra shot, extra foam, extra whip, sugar-free. Also a medium dark roast coffee and a cold brew for my friends over here", Bob said to the barista. Midland honestly felt sorry for the poor soul unlucky enough to create that monstrosity Bob called a drink. He'd much rather listen to a bunch of Kepler's ridiculous stories than be in that person's position.

Midland looked back at Sobrero's messages, _Call me back right now. '_ Call me back right now' his ass, no way was Midland going to talk to her. Not after she had the audacity to try to confront him in public-- in front of his friends-- and ruin the life he'd built for himself here. 

"Having uh "friend" troubles there man?", Teller said sneaking up behind him.

"I wouldn't go so far as to call her my friend Boss, but yeah I guess you could say that"Midland remarked. Teller shifted pretty close to Midland and awkwardly stood there pretending to look at the ship's daily specials and trying his best to keep his mouth shut. 

Midland sighed and rolled his eyes, clever as his Boss may be, Teller had no social skills whatsoever. They've been friends for about a year now, and you don't work a job full of risks like this without getting close to the fellas you're working 12 hours a day with. And as much as he hated to admit it, he appreciated how much Teller cared about his personal health. Plus he was pretty sure that the man would break down if Midland didn't tell him something about what was going on.

"Fineeeeee, I'll tell you what's going on with the reporter", and with that Teller's face lit up like a child who was given an extra slice of cake at a birthday party. 

"She's just an old friend I knew a long time ago. We were pretty close until we got into this huge argument. And by huge, I mean detrimentally massive. I said some things that made me sound like an asshole, and she said some things that made me sound like an even bigger asshole. And we haven't spoken since.", Midland said. 

"Until New Year's Eve, right? Is that why you were acting so weird that night?"

"No, of course not. I was stressed because it was the final day of my probation and you were acting like an idiot--no offense.", Midland sneered. Teller let out a big sarcastic 'uh-huh'. "Okay so maybe she caught me off guard a little bit. But there were other components, not everything is about her despite what _Isabel_ thinks."

"Isabel?", Teller glared at him. 

_Fuck_ , "Tatiana-- I mean Tatiana. Isabel is just her middle name that she used to go by in college.,Slip of the tongue y'know, and like I mentioned, I haven't kept in touch with her in years."Midland said barely able to scrape up a fathomable lie. But Teller bought it, he totally did. He would have to.

"Right- well it sounds like _Tatiana_ just wants to get in touch with you again. I mean, if you two were such good buddies what harm could it do? People can't hold grudges forever." 

"Mmm.. You'd be surprised then Boss. Cause I got a whole closet full of them."

"Listen Mark, you're like what-- 34, 35? You're still in those young years before you settle down and live with the realization that you can't fix all the serious mistakes you've made. Call her up and meet this old friend of yours for some dinner or something. And if not for your stubborn ass, than for poor Tatiana's sake."

"First off, I'm 37 and you're only 6 years older than me,'' Teller shot him a look. "But you do make a compelling argument. I'll think about her calling her later tonight when I'm ready, what is she going to do? Confront me right now out of nowhere?." 

"Black coffee, Cold brew latte, and a 'Radio Bob Special'?", The barista shouted. _Finally_ , Midland thought. As therapeutic as it was to share the intimate details of his past life with his boss, he really couldn't take more discussion about _her_.

Midland was about to reach for his cup of coffee before another, slimmer hand grabbed it for him. A hand that didn't belong to Teller or Radio but the devil incarnate herself.

"A cup of black coffee, really Jacobi? Who knew you such a stickler for boring traditions?", Sobrero said standing beside not even a foot away from Midland.

Midland's jaw dropped and sighed a deep painful breath, "Why do I always have to be right?"


	2. Jacobi, My Sweet Jacobi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Midland and Lovelace finally have a heart to heart discussion

"You know Jacobi, I find it _very hurtful_ when one of my friends doesn't call me back.", Isabel inched forward towards Midland. He took a step back in advance, but his whole body started to shake until he felt like he couldn't move at all.

_Fuck,fuck,fuck,fuck why here? Why_ now?, Midland thought twitching his head around to look at his friends who were just _standing there_ , shocked eyed and wide jawed. Why weren't they over here restraining her or calling the shop's manager for help? Maybe he could make a run for it, the van wasn't very far and Midland was a pretty good runner all things considered.

Isabel towered over Midland now, her stone cold eyes sent an echoing jab through Midland, then she raised her right hand, and that's when he dreaded the worst and braced for impact. She rolled her fingers into a fist and with all the force she could muster she...playfully punched Midland?

"Geez lighten up Jacobi, it's weird seeing you all tense like this", Isabel chuckled.

"What on Earth…", he could hear Teller mutter.

"Here's your coffee, now let's find us a nice table to sit at. I assume you don't want your friends joining us?", She asked.

"'Us'? There is no 'us', I'm not having a conversation with you", Midland said. He finally stopped shaking, but the constant rhythmic tapping in his heart didn't.

"Oh Jacobi, my sweet, naive, Jacobi.", Isabel smiled. "You still think you have a choice, don't you?"

She grabbed his arm and dragged him to a set of chairs, "Sit".

"Fuck are you doing? My friends are over there waiting for me, you can't just kidnap me- I have more important things to do than amuse whatever crazy fantasies you have planned out for me."

"Well I can call them over here if you'd like, then they can hear your sorry excuse for abandoning me and the rest of your friends in the middle of the night", She started to wave over to Teller and Radio Bob.

"What? No! Noooo, nooooooooo. Nuh-nuh, no way. You are not putting them in the middle of this--," Midland said, "-Oh heyyyyy guyssss. What's up?"

"Um.. Hi Miss Sobrero, nice to see you again. You alright Midland?"Teller said.

 _No, I'm cornered by a very scary woman but if I try to leave she'll tell you all the horrible lies I've told and my life will be over._ , Midland wanted to say.

"Uh yeah, sure. Me and Sobrero were just going to have a friendly, _private_ conversation right?", Midland glared at Sobrero. How dare she--how _dare_ she make him lie to the only people he cared for. "I'll see you guys later at the station alright? Hopefully nothing blows up while I'm gone."

"Don't worry about it Midland, if anything blows us the good people of New York will have me taking care of them.", Said Teller

"See ya later Mark", Bob said.

When they were both safely out the door, weird coffee drinks in hand, he turned back to his real problem,"Want to tell me why I just had to lie to my friends Isabel?"

"I don't know, want to tell me why you've been ignoring me ever since we ran into each other _Mark_?", She retorted, enunciating his name like it was a new sushi recipe she'd never heard, "How did you come up with that bullshit name? Did you want to seem as much like Cutter as you could? Because if you want, I'm sure Minkowski would be just as glad to shove a harpoon into your chest."

"Stop it. It was just a random name."

"And was it just a random coincidence when we ended up in the same city together?"

"Uh yeah? You're the one who found me, not the other way around."

"Because why would a man so hell-bent on disappearing from the world be involved in such a public position? I saw you on the news after your team disarmed that pipe bomb in that big name corporation-- what was it called again? The FM? PM?"

"The AM: Atypical Monitors. A cyber security firm or something. I completely forgot about that.", Call Midland dull but he didn't understand what being on television had to do with her showing up out of nowhere. And he far from wanted anything to do with Isabel. He'd wish she'd just splash some coffee, say some mean and regretful words, and be done with the whole affair.

"Well I didn't. It was national news. When I saw you, I figured you were on some deep cover mission and used the media coverage as some type of message to reach out to us. So I got transferred over to New York and did my best to find you-- to make sure that you were safe. But imagine my surprise when I realize that everything's tickity-boo and you're perfectly content."

"So are you mad that I'm happy?, Midland said.

"No! I'm mad because you made me worry about you.", Isabel said. She tried reaching out for his hand, and he noticed her eyes were close to tears so he let her wrap her fingers around his. They were nice and warm. 

He pulled his hand away and placed it defensively in his lap, "I never asked you to worry. I never asked you to come to New York and disrupt my life either. I'm happy here."

"You're so full of shit.", Isabel slammed the table. "I'm trying to open up with you but you keep twisting the conversation so that you're the center of attention, like always."

"I'm sorry? I'm not the one who's being harassed here."

"'Harassed? I can't believe this;There you go again with your "I'm the victim, listen to me whine and pat my back to make me feel better". Well boo-fucking-hoo Jacobi, you're not the only one who's hurting."

"Oh I'm sorry Lovelace, did two of your best friends and ex-boyfriend die on that space shuttle? Did their abrupt, unjustified deaths leave a hole in your heart that you couldn't fill even with a shit ton of alcohol and therapy?", Midland said loudly. 

"Are we really doing this right now? Playing the 'Who's got it worse' game? Because if you recall, Goddard Futuristics left my entire crew to die in that stupid tin can while they sat on their greedy little asses and laughed. Instead of fixing their mistakes after my crew died-- after the original Lovelace died-- they sent another innocent team up there. And when we came back, my head was a jumbled-up mess of betrayed emotions and confusing thoughts. And I really needed someone to process that with.", Isabel wiped away a year from her cheek.

"I get it: Goddard Futuristics fucked us all up. But you had other friends- Minkowski, Hera, and Eiffel- to talk to. Or a therapist for God's sake. I don't see why you needed me."

"You're such a dumbass, you know that? Jacobi, _we're_ friends.Besides I have talked to Renée and Hera about it, just not you. Those two are nice and all, but you and I are made of tougher stuff. We both lost people we deeply cared for because of Goddard--they didn't. Plus they've never went through an alien-identity crisis like we have."

"But I'm not an alien remember?. I found that out weeks after that incident on the Urania, you know that."

"But you _thought_ you might've been, even for a little bit. My point is Jacobi that we never got to talk about it. When you left so suddenly, I thought the worse. You didn't leave a note so I thought-stupidly I might add- that you'd been kidnapped by some evil SI-5 agents. But then 2 weeks passed, a month, and soon a year that grew into too many without so much as a phone call. I get you were mad but you can't change your name and living address because of a little fight", Isabel said.

 _A little fight? More like a means to an end…_ , Midland thought. "What do you want me to Lovelace? 'I'm sorry that I moved on and made a happy life for myself?'"

"I don't care if you're happy! You could be married and have kids for all I care, and I wouldn't be mad. I just wanted to be there for you. I wanted you to be there for _me._ We were friends Jacobi, and you treated me like I was nothing.", Isabel buried her face in her hands.

_Oh no,_ if the tough, badass Isabel Lovelace was starting to cry then Midland knew that he'd messed up. Although Midland absolutely hated that she had popped back in his life without warning, and he'd much rather prefer that this conversation never happened-- somewhere buried deep inside his cold, unforgiving heart he still cares for Isabel. And despite all the tension between them, she was right about him. Lovelace didn't deserve this.

Midland got up and wrapped his arms around her chest. He whispered in her ear, "I don't think you're nothing Isabel, and I'm an idiot for making you think that. I just have a really really hard time dealing with my feelings okay?"

"So I've noticed. And that's a shit exscuse",Isabel choked out. She reached out and rubbed Midland's arm.

"I know, it wasn't meant to be an excuse, just a terrible explanation. Look Isabel, I'm not saying what I did was right but I was in a terrible place when I left. I had been for months after we came back. All that grief and thoughts wishing it was me instead of Maxwell who died, it was too much for me to bear. So I did the only thing a stubborn ass like me could do and ran away. I ran away because I couldn't deal with all those touchy feelings, I couldn't face the fact that they're dead. I didn't know how. And I meant to contact you, I really did, but honestly I was still furious at you and a part of me thought that you hated me. Everytime I pulled out my phone, my hand just shook with rage, or possibly fear? I knew that if called you it would just make things worse. So I just avoid you and my shit past, and when things started to go my way for once, I didn't think twice about what I was doing,`` Midland confessed. "I'm really sorry."

"Thanks for that Jacobi, I appreciate it--I really do but you have to realize that's also incredibly stupid. I would've kept talking to you, so would have Renée and Hera. Friends have fights sometimes but they get over it eventually."

"Well the other two big fights I've had wound up with neither us speaking again, plus they both died so I never got to that 'make-up' part.", Midland said.

"There's still time with me."Lovelace looked up at him and smiled. "I'd love to catch up with you."

"I'm guessing I don't really have a choice do I?"

"Nope", Isabel laughed.

"My place then- let's say 7 o'clock? And I get to bring along Teller and Bob."

"Seriously?"

"I want to have witnesses in case you decide to kill me", Lovelace punched Midland playfully, "See? You're very dangerous."

"Fine. You got yourself a deal-- _Midland._ ", The two shook hands and headed out of the coffeeshop.


	3. Cheers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacobi hosts a nice evening dinner for his friends, nothing could possibly go wrong, right?

_6:58_

Midland had masterly decorated his apartment to resemble a somewhat lovable space, where his dining area was fully laid out with his nicest table cloth and ceramic plates he found somewhere in a box tucked back in his closet. He even bothered to get Peonys, aka Lovelace's favorite flower. But now he was wondering if that was a little much…

 _No no, it looks nice,_ thought Midland. _But is it too nice?_ He didn't want Lovelace to think he'd gone soft. 

_6:59_

Before Midland could freak out more over the decor, a knock frantically came from the door.

"I'll be there in a sec!", Midland called. He opened the door to see Bob dressed in some slacks and t-shirt, holding a bottle of champagne, and Teller dressed in a nice, pressed button-down shirt. Midland almost never got the chance to see his friends outside of work, mostly because they worked for most of the day, and when he did it was usually at a bar.

"Hey guys, come on in", Midland said welcoming in, "Bob I'm glad to see you wore your best suit."

"Hey cut me some slack, all the money I get go towards paying rent not playing dress-up.", Bob said, setting the Champagne on the dining table, "These are some rocking digs Midland. How can you afford this place-- are you secretly rich or something?"

"Not really, I just have a lot of savings", Midland explained. He looked at his watch again, _7:01._ Where was she?

"So I guess my advice worked huh?", Teller said.

"What?"

"My advice: to talk about your feelings and listen to Miss Sobrero. I guess it worked out with you two pretty well."

"Yeah totally. I'm still feeling awkward about the whole thing though, like I think I feel guilty for not talking to her sooner? Uh I don't know how to explain what happened, my stomach gets all twisted up just thinking about it."

"Heh, that's progress for you.", Teller said, "Speaking of which, where is Miss Tatiana?"

"I don't--", Midland started to say as a knock came from the door, "--That must be her then."

Midland rushed to open the door for Lovelace, "Hey Sobrero. Nice of you to finally join us."

"Sorry I was 2 minutes late, I was grabbing you a special gift,'' She said revealing a delicate glass bottle.

"No way..is this--?", Midland said, carefully took the bottle from her hands.

"65 year aged Scotch. The best drink I could find for my old pal."

"Wow. I don't think I've scotch since...since, you know." Midland set the bottle on his kitchen counter and searched his cabinet for some glasses. "You want a drink of this Sobrero?"

"Oh absolutely."

"Teller, Bob? How 'bout you two?", Midland called.

"Uh sure.", Teller replied.

"No thanks, that stuff's too strong for me.", Bob said.

"Suit yourself," Midland said as he poured the scotch into 3 glasses.

"Cheers."

"Cheers", said everyone in unison, clanking their glasses together and downing each of their drinks.

"Fuck! That is some good shit!", Teller exclaimed, "How'd you even afford this stuff? Are you also secretly rich?"

"Eh kind of," Isabel laughed. "I get a lot of money from the government".

Teller blinked at her and looked in confusion.

"I'm a veteran?", she said. Which wasn't exactly lying since she was in the air force over what seemed a lifetime ago, plus she was a survivor of the Hephaestus, which was a war of it's own.

"No shit, really? What was your rank?"

"Captain."

"That's really impressive. I always thought about joining the military, my pops had fought in Vietnam, but I never had the nerve for it.", Teller commented.

"You weren't in the military were you Midland?",Bob asked him.

"Nope. They can't give an airplane license to somebody who can't see shit.", Midland replied. Although he wore contacts now, since working closely with bombs require mega-ultra-safety goggles. 

"So what'd you got cooking for dinner Jacobi?"

"Uh well I got a chicken casserole in the oven and there's salad if anyone wants it"

"Hold on a minute. What'd you just call him--Jacob? Is that also a college nickname?",Teller said.

"College? What are talking--", Lovelace started to say before Midland nudged her with his elbow. "Hang on did you not _tell_ them?"

"No, why would I? Just because you came back doesn't mean that I have to change my entire life!", Midland nudged her back. He didn't know if he'd ever be comfortable with telling his team about his past life, in fact they probably wouldn't be able to comprehend half of the stuff he did. He knew Teller was practically borderline insane, and during work hours he was filled to the brink with crazy ideas that only ever worked itself out in the last few seconds before it would've blown up in their faces--sometimes literally--but the man Midland used to be was deeply and profoundly messed up inside. To him, Teller's schemes seemed like child's play. 

"What's going on here?", Bob demanded looking around at Lovelace and Midland arguing, then back at Teller. 

He couldn't just tell them, he just couldn't. It would break their minds and it would break Midland's heart. Lovelace stared at him again and gestured to both of the men crowding around them, "Fine, I guess since the metaphorical cat is already crawling itself out of the metaphorical bag, I might as well tell you. You might want to take a seat because this one's a bit of a doozy."

Bob immediately placed himself on the sofa, spreading his arms around the pillows, acting as if he was just watching another episode of his favorite drama series. Teller however kept standing with his arms crossed tightly and waited for Midland to explain,

"I'm serious about this Boss, what I'm about to say is pretty heavy.", Midland said. 

Teller rolled his eyes and took a seat at of the dining chairs he was standing next to.

"I don't even know where to begin."

"Just get on with it already.", Teller said impatiently.

"Okay so my real name--well the name I had before I changed it legally anyways-- was Daniel Jacobi. I worked as a ballistics specialist for the Air force before I was recruited by an elite, and highly secretive organization called Goddard Futuristics to be an agent for one of their teams called SI-5.", Midland began. The words coming out of his mouth felt coarse against his tongue, like an ancient language that was afraid to be spoken. His stomach twisted and turned, but Midland wasn't sure if that was because he was nervous or because he was hungry.

"Wait like _the_ Goddard Futuristics? The one that was sued for human endangerment and global conspiracy?", Bob said shockingly, almost jumping off of the sofa cushions. There wasn't much of the Goddard case that was released to the public, only vague information about the return of 3 reportedly dead astronauts and genius inventor-turned evil scientist-turned amnesiac. The company was eventually terminated months following the return of the Hephaestus crew members, but most of it's employees ended up working for a similarly newer tech company. They tried their best to conceal the real purpose of the mission, as well as what the crew encountered up there, but theories still circled the internet. 

"The one and only.", Midland said. "My team and I were sent up to the Haephestus to uh...monitor the crew's operations which is where I met Sobrero,or Lovelace as she was known then."

"Yeah 'monitor' us to make sure we didn't escape."

"Not _helping_ Lovelace.", Midland said.

"Now that you mention it, I think I've heard those names before when it first appeared on the news: Captain Isabel Lovelace and Mr.Daniel Jacobi. Along with a Douglas Eiffel and a Renée Mincowsky…?", Bob said.

"Minkowski.", Lovelace corrected.

"Yeah see that's part of the reason why I changed my name, so people wouldn't freak out when they recognized me." , Midland said.

"I just can't believe you worked for _them_. I've heard so many stories about how Goddard Futuristics was practically the Area 51 of modern day. I've heard even more outrageous stories about the Hephaestus mission, how they were ambushed by this monstrous alien species and held hostage on their alien planet for years or how they were brainwashed by this evil mad scientist. You're seriously telling me that you worked for a company capable of sending people onto that deathtrap?", Teller said.

"Well first off, the crew was never boarded by any weird-looking aliens. They contacted us through radio transmissions, and the only person who met them face-to-face now has amnesia.", Midland began, "And secondly, I'm _not_ at all okay with what happened during the Hephaestus mission. Like Lovelace, I was lied to,betrayed, and used as Pryce's personal guinea pig. Also I've worked plenty of other missions that involved me taking down regime leaders and gathering Intel that actually benefitted our country. Yes, the founders of Goddard Futuristics were insane dickbags, and I'm sorry that Lovelace had to go through that. But I've done other things, good things mind you, with Goddard that I don't regret."

"Did you--Have you ever, y'know…", Teller wondered.

"Have I what?", Midland said sharply.

"...killed someone?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter?! Of course it matters! Jesus Mark, I don't even know who you are anymore.", Teller yelled as he threw over his chair onto the floor.

"It doesn't matter because I'm not that person anymore," Midland raised his voice, "That's one of the reasons why I left and changed my name: so I wouldn't have to be that person. And if you haven't noticed, I'm too busy dedicating my time to saving people from getting blown up to commit whatever evil crimes you think I've done."

"Even if aren't this 'Daniel Jacobi' anymore, how would _I_ or _Bob_ know that for sure? In fact, you've been lying to us since we met you! I just thought you were a sweet, naïve kid from Queens--not...whatever you are! And I don't know about you Bob, but I am _not_ hanging around a killer.`` Teller finally said. He grabbed his coat and keys he left by the door and started to leave.

"Teller--Simon, please don't go.", Midland pleaded. How could he let all of this go so far? He just wanted to make peace with his old friend, not create tension with his new ones.

"Oh, and don't bother showing up for work tomorrow Mark, we'll find someone else,'' Was all Teller said as he left the apartment.

Bob got off of the sofa and placed his hand on Midland's shoulder, "Don't worry about Teller man, he'll come around eventually."

"I don't even….Are you still going to stay?"

"Eh...not to be rude but I better head out too. Lots to do in the morning y'know?"

"I'll see you then?", Midland said hopefully, already dreading the answer.

"Uh... I think Teller was right, it'd be better if you didn't come in."

"I'll text you then."

"It's probably best that you didn't. See you around...maybe.", Bob said closing the door behind him.

Midland sunk into his sofa, clenching one of the pillows close to his chest. He looked at Lovelace with tearful eyes and asked her, "What the fuck just happened?"


	4. Pick Up Already

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened in the days, eventually months, after Jacobi ran away from the people he once called friends?

The phone rang again. It rang again and again with it's obnoxious ringing sounds that harmonized along with the anxious tapping of a foot against the wooden floor.

"Come on pick up already", the phone dialed again. The dial-up tone only lasted a minute and a half at the most, but it felt like an eternity just to hear another person's voice that would never come.

"Who are calling?", Minkowski's voice sent a shock through Lovelace's body that almost made her collapse onto the floor. She had completely forgotten that Minkowski was in the room.

"Oh sorry, it's just fucking Jacobi. He's been dodging my texts for two days, and I'm starting to get worried."

"Don't be. It's Jacobi, he's probably just obsessing over another work thing and forgot to charge his phone."

"I can tell he read my texts though. And I don't think it's work, he usually leaves a message when he works overtime at the lab. It's never this long either"

"Oh you know what?", Minkowski exclaimed.

"What?" "It's near that time of the year, y'know when she…", Minkowski lowered her voice and trailed off. She didn't have to elaborate because Lovelace knew exactly what she was talking about. Jacobi had acted this way on her birthday too, and again for Kepler on the anniversary of his death. He would spend hours locked away in his apartment or lab where he would presumably cry or put all focus onto a project so he wouldn't have to. Once on Maxwell's birthday, Eiffel tried to give Jacobi a slice of cake to "make him feel better" but it just ended up smashed in Eiffel's face. Since then, they've been cautious not to bother him much.

"I can't believe we forgot."

"I mean, it's not like we mark our calendars for this sort of thing."

"Maybe we should.", Lovelace said. She understood the kind of soul-piercing pain Jacobi was going through, the kind that makes you question your whole existence and whether everything they did was really worth it, and wondering if the gaping hole in your heart will ever close.

Lovelace often felt the same way whenever she thought about her first crew, she missed the high-pitched screams Lambert would after Lovelace mercilessly mocked him for hours or how Fourier would hum nursery rhymes during her shifts. She would give anything to hug her friends again, even yell orders at them only for Lambert to roll his eyes at them. But locking yourself away and not talking about any of these feelings wasn't healthy.

"I just don't want him to feel alone. It's been almost a year since we came back and I hardly hear him mention their names."

"Well change doesn't just happen overnight, you and I both know that very well. What happened up there was traumatic to say the least, and everyone handles their trauma differently. I remember how much of a wreck I was when I came home, so much so that I kept waking up in the middle night screaming. If it wasn't for my husband or you and Eiffel, I don't know what would have become of me.", Minkowski said. "But that's exactly it: you had friends and family to counsel with. Jacobi barely says anything to me about his feelings."

"It's not like he was ever really open about his feelings to begin with. I bet being there for him is enough", Minkowski said. Lovelace tried to take in her words, and she was right like always, but she felt useless just sitting around waiting for Daniel to suddenly feel better.

She saw how much her friend was hurting,like when the only contact she had with him was over the phone and when he would come over, he would barely eat and practically clear out Lovelace's liquor supply.

"Plus you're one to talk little Ms.'I think I'll take a 3 month long vacation and not bring along my friends.'"

"I guess you have a point…", Lovelace smiled. She placed her phone down on the coffee table in front of her, Jacobi's fine. He's on his own and he's doing just fine.

...

The phone rang again for the third time. Jacobi was half tempted to pick it up and throw it out the window, and get it crushed by an oncoming car, that would should show her.

 _Maybe I should_ _answer_. _I should answer and tell her where I am and that everything's fine._ But then he would be lying, because everything was definitely not fine. And Jacobi didn't have the faintest idea of where he was right now, he'd been driving since 4am and was awake on caffeine and willpower alone. The phone rang again, "God. Damnit Lovelace! Stop calling me!", Jacobi shouted much louder than a person should when he's alone in a car.

He pulled over to the road's shoulder suddenly, because while Jacobi was a bad driver he wasn't a reckless one. As soon as he parked the car, Jacobi reached for his phone and answered, "What the fuck is so important that you feel the need to keep bothering me? I don't need you, you know. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself without your constant check-in's!"

"Uh sir…? I was just wondering if you'd be interested in our new line of scented--", a faint shaky voice on the other end started to say before Jacobi hung up on him. It was just a telemarketer, probably a young 20-something intern trying to pay this month's rent.

Had he wanted it to be Lovelace? Had he wanted her to banter back and forth with him until Jacobi reluctantly agreed to come back? Did he want to come back? Come back to a life where he pretended to be okay when everything absolutely wasn't okay and if he spent another moment alone in that stuffy apartment acting like he was okay, he definitely wouldn't be.

Maybe he wanted to move on. Maybe he didn't care what his friends would think of him. There wasn't anyone to stop him either, so Jacobi turned on the ignition and kept driving.

…

"Lovelace?" She raised her head to look at Minkowski, who had stopped chatting with Doug who sat across the table. As Lovelace lifted her hand from her face, have noticed how warms and pink her fingers had gotten from sitting in the same position. She hadn't even realized she was staring into space, the last thing she remembered from the conversation was something to do with the latest reboot of some old sci-fi show.

"Isabel are you doing alright? You haven't said anything in the past 15 minutes."

"Hmm? Yeah, I've just been... thinking.", Lovelace said solemnly. She was under a lot of pressure to find a job since she had nearly cleared out her savings and while the financial aid from the government was a nice bonus, she knew that she couldn't rely on it forever. It was hard to find a job Lovelace found enjoyable anymore, since the Hephestus mission practically ruined her love of space exploration. Plus there was always the creeping sensation that there was something missing from her life. Someone.

"You're thinking about Jacobi again aren't you?", Minkowski said. Her face scowled when she said his name.

"Maybe."

"It's been 9 months since he ran off, and all we've gotten to from him that is a blank postcard with his initials on it. If I were you I'd stop wasting my time with that Jackass and move on."

"That's not fair Renée. You don't know why he left or what he's been going through since then. Plus he had no obligation to stay with us, this isn't the Hephestus. We aren't prisoners here."

"Why are you making excuses for him Isabel? Has he ever once picked up the phone or left you a message in the several months since he abandoned us?"

Abandoned. The word rang through Lovelace's ears and kept spiraling in her brain. Abandoned. Abandoned. A-ban-doned. She wondered how many times in the past 9 months Jacobi had thought about her, how many times he was tempted to write more than his signature on a dusty old postcard, how many times he felt guilty for leaving in the middle of the night without saying goodbye.

He had been quiet in the days leading up to when he left, which wasn't particularly unusual because Jacobi hadn't had an actual, meaningful conversation with his friends in weeks. Could it really count as abandonment when a person was never attached to anyone else?

"I don't know," Lovelace responded. "I guess I wanted to hold out hope that he would come back. But I realize now that it was all a stupid fantasy. He's nothing but a dirty lowlife who can't possibly care about anyone but himself."

…

"Can I buy you a drink?" Jacobi was lounging by the bar, twirling his toothpick with the olive still attached,there was probably still a small swig of vodka left in his glass, and the olive looked so shriveled and small.

He didn't pay any mind to the man who just walked in, since the only people who were desperate enough to come to a run-down shack of a place in the early afternoon were lonely drunks or lonely drunks who didn't give a damn about the world. Jacobi being the latter of course.

"You want another one of those?", Jacobi rolled his eyes. He didn't need some random guy to buy him another terrible drink that tasted like expired soda mixed with a 5-hour energy drink. Maybe If he stayed silent for long enough, Jacobi could escape a conversation with this guy.

"I'll take 2 of whatever he's having", Out of the corner of his eye, Jacobi could see the stranger gesture the bartender and within a second two shot glasses filled with the same clear liquid and even smaller olives appeared in front of him. Jacobi looked at the drink, the taste was almost unbearable and it had barely enough buzz, but it was still alcohol. He couldn't get enough of that stuff to drown his sorrows and silence all the lingering guilt still inside of him.

"Thanks", said Jacobi as he reached for the glass.

"No problem, so what's your story?"The stranger said taking a sip of his drink.

"Um, no offense man but I don't know you. Plus I've already done the whole 'share intimate life details' thing and look where that got me."

"Come on, I won't bite.", He moved his chair closer to Jacobi and widely smiled at him. What kind of person smiles at a total stranger?, Jacobi thought. He was half-tempted to just run out of there, drink in hand.

"My name's John. What's yours?"

"Daniel", he said grudgingly. Maybe if he played nice, this guy would buy him more free drinks.

"So what's a guy like you doing in a place like this?", He asked. To be fair, the place was kind of a dump.

"Been doing a lot of traveling lately. Got tired, saw a bar, and wouldn't you know it, I felt like a drink."

"Traveling? That sounds fun, are you meeting some friends or family somewhere?". Geez why was this guy so talkative? Is this a habit of his, just walking into bars and talking to random guys like him as some kind of self-esteem boost?

"Nope. There's no friends or family to visit."

"Oh sorry, didn't mean to hit a nerve."

"I just don't really feel like talking about it right now, but thanks for the drink", Jacobi started to get out of his chair when John grabbed his hand.

"Y'know, we don't have to talk. My place isn't too far from here."

Jacobi smiled"Alright. But I get to drive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a long chapter! I kept rewriting the last part with Jacobi, so that took me awhile. Next update we'll be at present time, and see how Teller deals with the fallout with Midland.


	5. I Should've Taken The Stairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bob hurries to catch Teller after he abruptly left Midland's disaster of a dinner party.

Teller's brown suedes tapped loudly against the wooden floors that lined the hallway of the apartment complex. It’s pristine wooden floors hardly showed any scratches on it or stains from a spilled soda drink that never got cleaned up. The fluorescent lights didn't flicker, in fact, Teller thought he saw a repairman fixing them earlier, and he couldn’t remember the last time his landlord bothered to send someone like that up to his apartment. He should've known, besides from this extremely luxurious apartment that a bomb defuser definitely couldn't afford on bus salary alone, despite whatever "savings" he has, Teller should've known. He thought he did everything right, how could he not? He could list every popular explosive model produced in the U.S and include their faults and what's most likely to set them off before even taking a single look at it. He was clever--that's what he's been told all his life anyways. So why didn't he see past Midland's disguise? How could he be so easily manipulated and lied to? And by someone, he considered a friend no less.

"Teller wait!"

 _Oh great._ , Teller thought. He tried pressing the button once more, not that it’d make much of a difference, but he really didn’t want to be stuck in an elevator with Bob. 

“Teller, Teller, Teller, Teller,Teller! Wait for me!”

“Sorry Bob, but you’re too late. You can catch the ne--” Teller started to say just as Bob reached his scraggly hand inside the elevator door frame. “Or just get on the one I’m in, I guess.”

“Come on Boss don’t act so sour.”

“‘Don’t act so sour’? Are you really telling me not to act ‘sour’ right now Bob? Our friend, our partner, who we and the whole city of New York relies on to get blown up into a million pieces every day, just told us that he’s a bloodthirsty, heartless criminal.”, Teller’s said as the loud echoes from his raised voice bounced against the delicate corners of the apartment’s hallways. He didn’t care if he was being loud and disturbed the entire hallway’s residents from getting a peaceful night’s rest--if they had a complaint, they could take it directly to Mark Midland, or whatever it was he called himself. 

“I’m pretty sure Mark didn’t say he was ‘bloodthirsty’. He just... vaguely hinted about the fact that he’s y’know...killed at least one person. But I mean, I still can’t imagine the poor guy hurting a fly much less pointing a gun at someone’s head.”

“Don’t you get it, Bob? That’s exactly what those bastards at Goddard Futuristics want you to think. They play all these twisted little mind games and act like sweet, little innocent scientists so they can slither into your brain and rot you from the inside out. Midland. played. Us. like tiny. Little. Puppets.” 

“To do what? Secretly Jedi-mind trick us into giving him access to the poor man’s version of a bomb? You heard him in there, he’s a capable ballistics expert who’s worked for the smartest technology incorporation to ever exist. If he wanted to blow up New York City, he would’ve done a long time ago after Goddard got shut down. Face it, he’s just trying to enjoy life now as...well, as one of us.”

The words repeated in Teller’s mind like a worn-out recording, skipping a beat every now and then. _Enjoy life. One of us. Blow up. One of us. Trick. One of Us. Face it. One of us. One of us._

“THERE IS NO ‘US’ ANYMORE!” Teller shouted. 

Bob took a step back, his eyes wavered between the clean marble floors and Teller’s raging, feral eyes. The twisted corners of his mouth were moist from all the saliva he’d spat out at Bob, and his hair that he so neatly combed and slick backed was now hanging in front of his face. He’d never seen Teller worked up like this before. He’d never seen Teller look so...furious.

The elevator door made a light beeping noise as it’s silver-plated doors slid open. Teller resumed the straight posture that was commonly known to make him look like a drill sergeant, pulled the loose strands of his hair back into place, and walked through the elevator’s doors without a second glance towards Bob’s direction. 

Bob’s stomach growled as he still stood fazed in the elevator shaft. After all the commotion, he realized that he hadn’t eaten dinner yet.


	6. We're Trying To Be Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teller has a rough morning and gets a special visitor.

Teller didn’t like mornings. Unless of course it included being awakened by the smell of roasted coffee beans and cooked bacon with a side of freshly scrambled eggs. This morning however, just smelled like week old dirty clothes and smoked cigarettes. 

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d stepped outside his apartment, or the last time he went outside his bedroom door. It might’ve been late last night or afternoon when he wandered into the kitchen for food, but the past 24 hours all seemed like a blur to him. Where the day started and how it ended all swirled together in one giant, confusing haze that made it almost impossible for Teller to remember every excruciating detail. He would blame it on his hangover except he hadn’t gotten drunk last night and all the alcohol in his apartment vanished weeks ago after New Year’s. He thought he recalled waking up one morning and driving to a cafe, except he did that everyday so who’s to say that memory wasn’t from 2 days ago or from last week? He also vaguely remembered entering an apartment building that wasn’t his--no not entering, leaving. He left in a hurry, he remembered, and he was irritated.  _ V _ ery irritated. Like he could punch a wall irritated. Sometimes a flash of someone’s face would appear, like the soft smile belonging to Ms. Tatiana Sobrero or the strangely terrified eyes of Bob or that stupid smug expression Midland always wore, like when he was talking about--

The alarm clock beside his bed rang like crazy and rattled his brain even more. He didn’t need the alarm to go off to know that he was late to work. His job was the last thing to cross his mind this morning, it didn’t even seem like a real concept to him at this point. His limbs ached from lying in bed for so long, and it took every bit of energy he had just to move his hand a few inches to the right to shut off the crying alarm clock. Teller was pretty sure that even if he felt like going to work--which he absolutely didn’t, no matter how much he knew he liked getting his hands dirty because what’s the point in working towards something good if someone’s just going to come around and ruin it for him-- he doubted that he could even remember the route to work, or where he parked his car for that matter.

He stretched his arms over his head and placed them back down at his side.  _ Should _ he go? Was there a point in going to work when all your co-workers are absolute buffoons? When some are absolute traitors? Who knows, it might be worthwhile to stretch his legs at least. He just didn’t want to show up and see  _ him _ there, after he specifically told him not to. But if he was there, then Teller couldn’t just act like everything was normal; he couldn’t just go out into the field and expect to trust Midland to do his goddamn job correctly without fear of blowing someone up on purpose. Maybe he should just stay in bed and request a team transfer, after all it’s not like there was much left of his so-called “team”. 

On the other hand, if Teller just stayed in his room all day then that would give Midland the opportunity to take control over the unit facility and ruin all of Teller’s carefully laid out plans. Besides, if Midland was at work then Teller couldn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking he’s beaten him--that he’s ruined his life. 

Teller slung his feet off the side of his bed, and grabbed one of the wrinkled shirts that he’d thrown on the floor a couple of days ago.  _ What a shit morning this is going to be,  _ Teller thought as he grabbed his keys and unlocked the door to his apartment. 

__________

“Excuse me, is this the facility for unit 214? I’m looking for Simon Teller.” Midland said as he closed the door to the busy street behind him. The room he’d wandered into, though not by chance-- he’d been preparing for this moment for days ever since he received his assignment two days ago from upper management--was littered with dirty gloves, discarded wires, and stacks upon stacks of paper. Worse of all, it smelled worse than the locker room for a high school football team. 

_ Christ,  _ Midland thought.  _ Is this what my career has been reduced to? Working in a goddamn garbage dump? This place looks worse than the Hephaestus when it was crashing into Wolf 359.  _

A scraggly looking man with unkempt hair who smelled exactly like the type of cheap pot Midland would smoke in college, came up to him and held out his hand, “Name’s Robert Hanson, friends call me Radio Bob. I guess you’re our new recruit! Look at you dressing all nice and cute, we’re gonna have a fun time breaking you in.”

“Uh-huh… and what is that supposed to mean exactly?” Midland grunted, shaking Radio Bob’s sweaty hand.

“Oh, believe me, you’ll find out soon enough.” Radio Bob waved his hand over his shoulder, an indication for Midland to follow him further into the slowly-falling-apart facility. It was his first day on the job, and Midland was already doubting working here. Rather,  _ Jacobi _ was;  _ Midland _ on the other hand was head-over-heels excited mixed with a splash of nervous to be working in an actual bomb facility, with co-workers who were actually hellbent on saving people from dangerous explosives instead of making them. 

Maybe that was the issue Jacobi--not Midland-- had with this job. All his life, he’d worked in the kind of places where they hand you a gun on your first day and tell you-- no,  _ command  _ you-- to shoot someone point-blank, no intel given just a couple of bullets. And if you shot the target well, the whole room applauded. He loved the people he’d worked with, though some more than others, despite their sometimes obvious excitement to build and steal equipment that could rip entire cities in two. Because if those kind of horrible people, the kind whose hearts pumped out deception and ill-will rather than pure compassion, didn’t deserve love then that meant that Midland--Jacobi--whomever he was, didn’t either. Maybe working in a place where people gave you their hand and a friendly smile instead of a loaded weapon would redeem Jacobi in some way; help him push down all those thoughts about artifice and murder and replace them with more human characteristics. Jacobi knew he could be a good person, even if he hadn’t been for the first couple of decades of his life; he’d seen it himself when he helped rescue what was left of the Hephaestus crew from getting incinerated in a star. He knew he could be Midland, even if he wasn’t at this very moment, maybe someday he wouldn’t have to search his blackened heart for some kind of redeemable quality, because that would be all he was made of. He just needed a bit of help to get him there. Plus, Jacobi  _ needed  _ to be a good person because he couldn’t keep living as this rotten person for the rest of his life otherwise there wasn’t a point in even being. 

The man who had introduced himself as “Radio Bob” earlier (honestly Midland had heard better nicknames, he’d even had a few better ones himself) led him to a small office space tucked away in the way-back corner. Somehow, this corner looked worse than the rest of the facility. From behind a large stack of paperwork stuffed into files that looked like they could topple over at any point, sat a tall man with hair that looked like it’d been greased back with car oil.

“Boss, our new recruit is finally here!” Radio Bob said patting Midland on his back. 

“Well, welcome to the best goddamn place in New York City. Nay I say, the entire country.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize that the statue of liberty was such a fucking dump.”  _ Shit, _ Midland thought. That was rude, he probably shouldn’t be rude to his new boss. 

“Ha! We got ourselves a funny one, huh Bob?” He placed his hand on Midland’s shoulders, “You’re gonna fit right in here pal. I’m Simon Teller, nice to meet you.”

The way Simon Teller approached Midland, with a certain type of gravitas, made him come across as the type of man a person should watch out for--if they could ever take their eyes off of him in the first place. He walked with the type of confidence he’d only seen in one other man, Midland just hoped that unlike him,Teller’s confidence wouldn’t get him killed in the field. His swagger, along with his crooked smile, made him look ridiculous had he not been so good looking.

“Mark Midland. Glad to be here.” Midland smiled,  _ this could work _ , he thought.  _ It really could.  _

“I’m guessing based on how skeptical you are about this place, that you’ve never worked hands-on in a facility like this?” 

_ A run-down, city-owned facility?  _ Midland thought,  _ Absolutely not.  _ But he has worked in plenty of other private institutions where he directed a whole team on building a bomb. He bit his tongue on that question though. 

“Nope, I’ve just worked in the military for a little while, and did some internships at an ammunition storage facility.” Midland lied, like he’d done a thousand times before and probably will continue to do. 

“And you’re definitely not from the great NYC either, right? Otherwise you would’ve known that the lady in green is not the greatest place in the state--unless you’re a tourist, of course.”

“Yeah no, I’ve been hopping around from place to place. Whatever the job requires.”

“That’s good at least, we practically live in our van. Or at least Radio Bob does anyways.” Teller laughed.

“What he’s trying to say Midland, is welcome home.” 

__________

As Teller pulled into the parking lot, he noticed that it was completely empty save for one or two stray cars that probably belonged to some employees who worked nearby. He half expected Radio Bob to show up at least, but that might’ve just been the mid-morning drowsiness still talking. 

The lights in the facility flickered as Teller stepped inside, slowly filling the space made compact by several dozen boxes of equipment and bottles of beer left over from New Year’s. It’d certainly seen better days, like that one week in March when Radio Bob convinced everyone that their office space needed a little tidying up in order to “improve morale” and “actually find their paperwork so they wouldn’t turn it in 2 weeks late” or some other bullshit. 

Teller slowly shuffled down the aisle made by assorted office chairs and makeshift desks they built whenever their unit-ordered ones broke. What was he doing here anyways? No one else had bothered to show up, not that Teller could blame them anyways. This place barely felt like anything to him anymore, not like home, certainly not a safe-haven-- just nothing. He remembered when this building was filled with friendly chatter and bickering, of the hope for a better tomorrow (both for his team and the people of New York). Midland or whatever the fuck he called himself--not that it mattered because in Teller’s eyes that man would always be dead to him-- had taken every bit of that hope away from him. How could he trust himself to rely on his teammates and dispose of these dangerously armed devices when he so obviously failed to recognize that his partner was lying straight to his face? How could he trust his hands to dismantle a bomb without his hands shaking? How could he relax and trust his own mind when every second he was looking around him to make sure no one was following him, trying to strangle him in his sleep? Midland was to blame. He was to blame for this strange black whole swallowing up Teller from the inside-out; He was to blame for any city-wide destruction; He was to blame for manipulating Bob into thinking that he deserved to be forgiven; He was to blame for  _ everything  _ wrong in Teller’s life right now.

Teller slammed his hands down on the table in front of him, his heart drumming loudly against his chest. His palms quickly balled into fists, and he slammed his right hand on the table again. 

“You alright there Teller?”

_ Bob?  _ Teller instinctively thought, and whipped his head around to see who had just come in. 

“Oh. It’s you. Great.” Teller let out a deep sigh and leaned back on the table behind him. “Why are you here Miss Sobrero? You’re not exactly reporting on this unit anymore.”

“For Fuck’s sake, don’t you ever take a break from work? Or is it just all bombs for you? Loosen up a bit, couldn’t I be here on friend-related purposes?”

“Well, the last time I “loosened up”, I learned that one of my officers was a secret agent and had been lying to me for over a year.”

“Look, I get it. Jacobi--er Midland-- is an asshole. I mean, he was apart of the team that infiltrated my crew’s station and was planning to kill us after they’d milked for all that we were worth; which to them wasn’t too much. In fact, when his boss shot me, I’m pretty sure that Jacobi didn’t even bat an eye.”

“So... you agree with me then?”

“Yes, but also no.” Sobrero said. “See, Jacobi may have a brain the size of a walnut, and he also may be the most sarcastic jerk I’ve ever met, but despite your opinion of him, he’s not the biggest asshole out there. That shared title belongs to Marcus Cutter and Miranda Pryce.”

“I don’t get it. First you admit that Midland is a bastard, and now you’re defending him because other people committed slightly worse actions than him; so I should forgive him for being not-as-shitty-of-a-person-as-he-could’ve-been.” 

“This is going to be harder than I thought,” Sobrero muttered under her breath. “Look, all I’m saying is that Jacobi is a complicated person; we all are. There’s more to him than just the shell of a person he wants us to see. If you want to be mad at Jacobi, go ahead, he sure as hell deserves it. He’s done plenty of selfish, callous things that would last a lifetime and then some. But you can’t be completely focused on all the shitty stuff he’s done and be ignorant of all the progress he’s made and the care he puts into this job. When I first got to New York, I was prepared to find Jacobi, punch him in the face, and leave him in a ditch or back-alley somewhere for the rats to find. That man who had left his home; his family after we had so many questions to answer deserved the worst punishment possible. And when I walked into this warehouse and saw him cracking jokes with you, I thought how could he possibly replace us so easily? It took me the whole night of racing down the streets of New York in the back your van to realize how confident he had grown since I last saw him, and not just in his usual cocky attitude, but in the “I’m going to defend these people even if it kills me” type of way. Ignoring his improvement, his moral growth, and just seeing a small sliver of the person he used to be is just as unfair to him as it is to lie to you. I’m not saying you have to forgive him right now, in fact, who knows if you ever will? But eventually, you’ll have to confront him on your own. Believe me when I say that you can’t just run away from this. I mean, for God’s sake look at Jacobi! He ran away from his friends for 4 years, and he’s still facing the consequences for that. As painful as it is, you have to talk to him.”

Teller shifted his gaze away from Sobrero, this random woman who inserted herself into a situation she had no business being in.

“No.”

“Excuse me? Didn’t you hear  _ anything  _ I just said?”

“Yeah, I heard you throw a big pity party for a man who’s treated people like shit all his life, just because he’s “working on being a better person”. Newsflash, we’re all trying to be better! Some just never are, no matter how many chances you give them.”

“How can you say that when you’re not even hearing Jacobi out?”

“Because then I’ll have to hear more about how he lied to me! I’ll have to hear about this life that he kept hidden from me, even when I’ve shared parts of myself I never thought I’d tell anybody. That’s how much I trusted him. How can I go back to the same place where we’ve shared beers and laughed until we hit the floor, when he was just putting on a facade for me? Was any of it even real? After all you’ve been through, how can you stand there and tell me that I don’t deserve to feel hurt?”

“Teller, of course you deserve to feel hurt. I’m frustrated every time I see Jacobi’s stupid face, and I’m still waiting for the moment when I wake up and he’s disappeared again. Your distrust isn’t invalid, it’s not just something that can be given over a cup of coffee. The first step towards rebuilding that trust, or at least taking that weight off of your chest, is to confront Jacobi. The only reason that he didn’t come here himself is because I was pretty sure you’d beat him until he was bloody. You have his phone number whenever you’re ready.”

“I’ll think about it.” Teller said. “And Miss Sobrero?”

“Yes?

“Thanks. I can’t promise that Midland and I will be buddies again, but thanks for listening to me. Just be careful around Midland, you’re a pretty badass woman and I wouldn’t want to see your kindness be taken advantage of.”

Sobrero chuckled, “You’re a good guy Teller, I hope you and Jacobi can work things out.”


End file.
